


like magic, play aces, stay with me, go places

by birdbox (Bella_Barbaric)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag-2x12 Beach House, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Barbaric/pseuds/birdbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake and Six Drink Amy discuss their future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like magic, play aces, stay with me, go places

It’s well past two before anyone even thinks about calling it a night—Real Ray or Fake Ray eventually dissolving into conversations between themselves but once Boyle announces he’s heading ‘up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire’ as he puts it, the rest of the squad slowly follow, partly realising how tired they are and partly because it feels rude to stay up much longer than the host does. Gina and Jake (and Amy, but only because she’s been drifting in and out of drunken consciousness on the couch all night anyway) stay up slightly longer than the rest, finishing the snacks between them before getting up to leave for their rooms.

“Er, Gina, what should we do about Santiago?” Jake asks as Gina’s about to leave, pointing at the practically comatose Amy splayed out over the furniture.

“ _We_?” Gina says skeptically.

“Yeah, we can’t just leave her here. She could start vomiting and choke on it or something.”

Gina looks at Amy and wrinkles her nose. “I’ll leave you to figure that one out, champ. Like you said, once you wake her she’s liable to start vomiting –or worse,  _crying_ \- any minute. Not dealing with that.”

“So basically, you wanted to see Six Drink Amy but you’re not willing to deal with the consequences?” Jake surmises, annoyed but somehow completely unsurprised.

Gina nods, unapologetic, as she walks out of the room. “That’s pretty much it, yeah. Great detecting, Jake, I can finally see why they hired you. Okay, byeeee!”

“Thanks for all your help, Gina,” Jake shouts after her sarcastically. He’s pretty sure he hears a  _‘you’re welcome’_  from down the hall which he just rolls his eyes at.

He kneels next to Amy on the couch and clicks his fingers in her face in an attempt to wake her from the alcohol induced coma she’s apparently put herself into because, as light as she is and as bodybuilder-strong as he is, he knows there’s no way he’s supporting her entire weight all the way up the two flights of narrow staircases to their rooms.

“Amy. Amy. Santiago. Ames. Amy.” It’s clear that no amount of name calling from him is going to get through her drunken fog addled mind so Jake breaks out the big guns. “Detective Santiago!” he shouts in the best Captain Holt voice he can possibly muster.

And oh so predictably, this is what makes Amy’s eyes snap open and sit up straight as though she’s been plugged into the mains. It’s hard to hold in a laugh at her expression but somehow Jake manages. Amy relaxes when she sees him, a loose smile playing on her lips. “Oh, hey, Jake.” She lifts her head lazily to look around. “Did Captain Holt leave?”

Holt left about twenty minutes ago so Jake lets himself be flattered his impression was good enough to fool her, even if she is out-of-her-mind drunk right now. “Yes, he did, but before he left he ordered you to go to bed so you’d better get on and obey that  _direct order from your Commanding Officer_ ,” Jake emphasises, hoping deference to Holt is one of the things Six Drink Amy retains from Zero Drink Amy’s personality. “I’m pretty sure I heard him say he’d be extremely disappointed in you if you didn’t. And that he might fire you.”

“No, he didn’t, you’re a lying liar who lies, Jake!” Amy sings. Jake sighs—at least it doesn’t look like she’s about to start crying or vomiting. Yet. “Plus, it ain’t a direct order if I hear it from you now is it?”

She smirks at him, proud she’s outsmarted him. Jake grabs her hands and attempts to pull her up physically but her passive resistance gets him nowhere fast. This is apparently going to be more difficult than he thought.

“Hey… Jake?” she says suddenly, while he tries again to get her to stand up.

“Yes, Amy?”

 “Do you think I’m going to die alone?” she asks in a small voice. Jake collapses down next to her again—he’s practically got whiplash from her change in mood. Her dark eyes are wide and sad, and he’s pretty sure he sees tears welling up; he apparently spoke too soon about the whole not crying and/or vomiting thing. He's only seen Amy cry a handful of times since he's known her and every time it's like watching someone kick Bambi or something. 

“Of course you’re not going to die alone! Why would you say that?” In reality, he knows exactly why she would say that: because this is Six Drink Amy he’s dealing with, but he’s also interested in her drunken explanation.

“Everyone has- has someone,” she wails, hiccuping in the middle. “You have perfect Sophia, Holt has Kevin, Rosa has Marcus, Terry has Sharon and the twins, even Scully and Hitchcock have wives and I have no one! I’m going to die alone, Jake!”

“Boyle doesn’t have anyone either, you know,” Jake tells her because it’s the first thing that pops into his head. She stares at him, bottom lip trembling. Wincing, Jake backtracks, “Okay, I see why that might not make you feel better, but you’re not going to die alone, I promise you. You’re going to find someone who loves thorough vacuuming and hobby craft as much as you do, or otherwise doesn’t mind putting up with them for you because they love you so much.”

“But doesn’t like Pilsners?” Amy clarifies, tentatively, which makes Jake smile.

“And who thinks every Pilsner brewery should burn in the fiery pits of watery lager hell where they belong,” Jake confirms sagely.

“You really think so?” She’s almost smiling so Jake knows he’s on the right lines.

“I  _know_  so,” Jake tells her, bumping shoulders with her. “And in the extremely unlikely event that you don’t meet your someone, I will be there to personally make sure you own enough cats to make you the finest crazy cat lady in Brooklyn. I will buy you a cat for every birthday and Christmas until you’re eighty if I have to. The first will be named ‘Jake’ after yours truly  _and_  the cat from the 1978 sci-fi classic The Cat From Outer Space, of course; the second will be named-”

Amy’s playing with the zipper on his hoodie, looking at him fondly. “You’ll still be in my life when I’m eighty?”

 “Well,  _duh_ ,” Jake teases, but there’s an element of truth there too. “Someone’s going to have to come with me to all those geriatric clubs and conventions for retired cops who don’t know how to let go of the job. It’s an action film waiting to be made!”

 Amy surges forward suddenly and wraps her arms around him from the side, leaning up to kiss him sloppily on the cheek. Jake’s cheeks heat and he pats the arm that’s across his body. “You’re so nice, Jake. You are. And Sophia’s nice too. You deserve each other, you know that?” she says with a trace of something in her voice that he can’t work out, resting her chin on his shoulder.  After a pause, she continues in a wobbly voice, “I don’t deserve anyone-”

 Jake interrupts quickly. “Okay, Six Drink Amy, I think you need a bed with a trash can beside it right now so let’s not explore that particular downward spiral again!” He grabs her arms and uses the off-guard opportunity to haul her up and this time she lets him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work but whatever.


End file.
